


gentle on my mind

by leukoplakiaa



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Sidon POV, mostly just sidon pining, they don’t officially get together but like. c’mon.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-11-01 00:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20804801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leukoplakiaa/pseuds/leukoplakiaa
Summary: “you’re moving on the backroads by the rivers of my memory”zora’s domain is always safe, always a comfort, & link starts to be himself, whoever that is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is ‘gentle on my mind’ by glen campbell
> 
> it’s a good song. give it a listen.

Sidon feels like he waits a long time for Link, at the reservoir. Time is hard to tell without the sun, but he knows it to be the truth when the bed starts to look appealing. Or his nerves could be messing with his sense of time; that was possible too.

He hates looking at Ruta, too, their hulking form looming over the Domain; maybe the water is Mipha’s tears. Maybe Ruta has been a curse their whole life.

Eventually, Link returns. His skin looks pinker (he’s not old enough to remember when Hylians visited frequently to really understand them and why their skin changes color like a lizalfos), but his eyes are brighter. “Hero! You’ve returned. Are you ready to face the Divine Beast, Vah Ruta?”

Link nods. His ears are red. Hylians are different, and this one catches his eye in a different way. He starts to sign, and Sidon hasn’t exactly caught up in his HSL, but he picks up bits and pieces. ‘_Sorry. Lynel scared me. Went to Gerudo to get arrows_.’

“That is fine, my friend!” he starts on autopilot, but then catches himself. “Did you say Gerudo town? That’s on the other side of Hyrule!” Link shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but Sidon remembers that his slate makes travel easier. (Not that he has ever or will ever see Gerudo Town in the flesh; it would be the end of him.)

Sidon remembers bits and pieces, however, from reading and talks. He’s young, yes, but not stupid. “I thought no males were permitted!” he exclaims. The pink of his cheeks deepen, and Sidon hastily backpedals. “Unless you are not male! Forgive my presumption.”

And, over the roar of the rain and Ruta’s trumpeting, he hears Link laughing softly. What a glorious sound.

The Hylian waves his arms to fetch his attention, eyes downcast in…shyness? ‘_Guy. You’re right_.’ He pulls out his slate, taking a brief look at him before tapping away. His Zora Armor disappears and is replaced by fine cloth that leaves his stomach revealed. The color in his cheeks only deepens as he tucks the slate beneath his arm.

‘_I make a good_…’ Link’s hands falter, and Sidon wonders what is happening behind the veil. ‘_A good_...’

Shockingly, he hears the softest, roughest, “A good vai.” It’s over just as soon as it begins, ‘_They say I’m pretty._’

This is something from a different culture, one he is unaccustomed to, but in spite of Ruta’s hulking form just behind them (_Mipha_ just behind them), he kneels before Link. “I must say, while I do not understand the nuances of clothes, you are very soft on the eyes.”

Link’s head cocks, and his forward most pieces of hair dangle to the side. ‘_Is soft a formal way to say pretty_?’ Something changes in the visible parts of his face, and Sidon can only assume a smile has blossomed.

Sidon wanders if it’s appropriate between Hylian men to call one another such things, but Zora have few inhibitions. “For you, yes.” Again, his cheeks redden, but his eyes glitter brighter than any luminous stone. He’s enveloped in a bright light as Zora’s Armor returns to his body, along with the peculiar little hood he wears. The helm is out there, somewhere.

The Hylian turns away as he readies his arrows, a courtesy he supposes, but even kneeling Sidon has impressive height on him. Shock arrows, even in Link’s hands, leave a nervous knot in his stomach. He shoulders a silver bow as well, and gives Sidon another small smile as he turns back. ‘_Let’s go._’


	2. Chapter 2

Link looks good in feathers, and Sidon is almost envious. 

‘_Rito be too cold for you.’_ Link cocks his head, and the head ornament dangles. ‘_Domain is one of few_-‘ his fingers falter, his brow furrows, and he absently goes through a few rough signs Sidon cannot decipher. He’s noticed, over his past few visits, the stutters in his signage as he relearns what he once knew. Or, perhaps, he’s going easy on Sidon; the latter makes his heart beat harder. ‘_One of few mild places_.’

The Hero leans back against the railing. His eyes find the subtle way his shoulders droop, and his normally shimmering eyes are a bit dull today. Sidon is all in the belief that Link should stay a night and rest (always pink, this one), but the Hero won’t hear it. “It all sounds amazing, my friend! I wish I could see it for myself,” he says, knees sunk in the waters that flow through the Domain. 

He nods, and Link must be warm bundled up so. It’s much bulkier than the Zora armor, but as Link swam here, he imagines it does not deter him much. Hylians seem perturbed by little. ‘_Don’t see many Zora_,’ simplified as a _Z_, ‘_out_.’

Sidon nods, a contemplative hum echoing in the air between them. It’s warm. “It seems that unlike the other races, us Zora are the least hardy, outside of our Dominion.”

'_Have you left the Domain_?’ he asks. _Domain_ is _D_. 

“Not in some time.” 

The Hero looks past Sidon, past the momentary comforts of the Domain. He’s barely known Link as an adult, but he’d give every scale off his body, build a new Domain, to give Link shelter. Princes do not craft armor, but he will find something to make Link feel secure. ‘_After Ganon. If I live. We go. Get you out of the Domain_.’

A heart flutters. "We’ll see what my father says, dearest friend, but I would love nothing more.” Link smiles, soft, and for the moment, he wonders what Hylian hair feels like.

‘_Fireblight Ganon. Then I return_,’ he says; his fingers—meant to slay Ganon and rid this world of his hatred if for a moment—touches Sidon’s arm as his others reach for the slate; it feels like being struck by lightening, but he doesn’t die.

Quite the opposite.


	3. Chapter 3

Link insists on standing atop a railing, and Sidon does not worry overly so. The simple part of his brain—the one that knows Hylians are soft and nothing outside of gorgeous—knows that a fall of this height would kill Link, but on his back is the paraglide, and he trusts Link.

Still, the boost to Link’s height only shortens the gap between them, not eliminate it. Sidon still has to glance down, and Link up; the angle is particularly harmful, because have Link’s eyes always been _that_ blue? The hues of the Domain only serve to outline the fact that Link is ever soft on the eyes. Blues suit him well.

The slate glows beneath his cheeks (he’s filled out since freeing Ruta; he’s small by Zora standards, slight by some Hylian ones, but it’s undeniable the power in him). Sidon carefully grabs Link’s wrists to maneuver the slate so he may see it better, and he feels hot from the images alone: rivers of magma broiling around him, Vah Rudania scuttling in the background much like a bright-eyed crab through the Domain. All the Beasts seem so different from one another, but they fit—he could not imagine Medoh above them.

Still, Goron City is, quite simply, on fire, though Hylians are a resourceful race, and he knows there is bound to be an outfit for all of Link’s adventures.

“It looks like every Zora’s worst nightmare, my friend.” Sidon is _almost_ terrified by the look in Link’s eyes. It is a rapt gaze, a hunter on his prey, and lightening slides back up his spine. Perhaps one day it will kill him, and the thought only makes him sick for the grief it will put his father through, but it is a death Sidon could...well, not live with, but accept.

The slate is turned back around. Link pokes at it, and metal clinks through the Domain as Link, in his opinion, dons a cooking pot. That manic smile still shrines through slits, and Sidon feels his tail swishing slowly. “Does it work?” he asks.

Link nods with a clunk. His hands are too occupied to speak as the top part of the armor flashes on his body. The normally slim Hylian is quickly hidden, and time briefly slows down as his leg greaves appear; the added weight makes the normally sturdy Link tip back on the railing.

Catching Link before his second foot leaves is too far is easy (his hand spans the entirety of Link’s being; small but strong); it’s a team effort to right him, though it’s an effort Sidon can burden without any help.

They’re predominantly alone (though Bazz is always within shouting distance), and Link roughly says, “That was embarrassing.” It’s always evident that his voice is rarely used, and he treasures each syllable he manages.

“I won’t mention it, my friend.” Link’s smile turns softer; the rough fingers of his gloves wrap around Sidon’s forearm, mindful of his fin, only now making Sidon realize he is still touching Link.

But if the Champion has nothing to say, he’ll let it happen.

“How kind.” His fingers twitch, and with a single hand he tugs off his helm, letting it clatter to the floor. Bazz turns to look, but his glance is brief as Sidon intercepts it. “I like the Rito, but the Gorons have five fingers. Understand sign better, even in this guard.” Link’s hair, normally mussed, sticks in a few spots to his head.

Sidon frowns slightly. “Was it difficult?”

"No. Just have to use simple signs.” Sidon, almost, wants to feel the pads of Link’s fingers, but that thought is…decidedly odd, so he keeps the desire to himself. “Gerudo have their own sign to go with their tongue. Riju’s showing me.” Breaking eye contact he didn’t know they were holding, Link’s thumb strokes across his arm. "But I speak the most here. It’s easiest.”

His stomach churns. He thought the Zora were doing well in their signage, but Link feels like it’s easier to speak. “Please don’t speak if you do not want to, my friend! There will never be a need to go out of your way here."

Like the wind, Link laughs. “I find it easy to speak here, Sidon, because I can. In the Domain.” Looking back up, he’s pink, always pink. “With you.”

As if he’s swallowed a whole fish live (which he never does when Link visits), giddiness replaces the unease cooking in him. “Oh!” Sidon flashes his smile. “Well, if that’s the case, continue to chatter like a lark. I welcome it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few more chapters of this, & i guess i’ve gone too long without angst so it’s coming, then i’m going to start plotting The Long Fic™️
> 
> but before that? a fucking epic on the slept on teba/harth/saki. imagine my disappointment combing the tags & not finding any >:(


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Link visits, Sidon isn’t aware of it for a few days. _Days_. How could he be so oblivious to what happens inside of the inn? Kodah comes and fetches him from where he watches over the Domain. “Linny is—Link has been asleep for a few days, my prince. I was wondering if you could get him up.”

"A few days?” he asks.

“Kayden goes to wake him, and he only hands over more rupees and keeps pushing his wake time back!” The woman sighs. “I’ve tried everything, even food, but he refuses to budge. I’d notice you two had grown close and was hoping you could do something for him.”

Sidon nods, perhaps too eagerly. “I will do what I can,” he declares resolutely. Anything for his most treasured friend. Where would he be without him? Drenched in rain, stuck with elders so painfully stuck in the mud.

Kodah smiles, sharp teeth glittering in the light. “I think Kayden and I will take Finley back down to the Bank of Wishes. Our only customer is occupied anyway.” He hears the underlying meaning—he’ll be alone with Link in the inn, and he’s unsure how to calm his hearts or how to deal with it.

“I will take good care of your inn!” he promises, and his sharp eyes do not miss the way her tail sways, a predator closing in on her prey. "Give your family my regards,” he says, and the girl of the hour runs up to her mother. Finley waves at him as grabs her mother’s wrist, a confident, “Take care of Mr. Link!”

Mr. Link sounds too formal for a _Hylian_ who tried to catch fish with his teeth, but Sidon won’t ruin a child’s mood.

It’s awkward, having to stoop so low to enter the inn, but the Domain, while intended for Zora, was never intended for Zora of his or his father’s size; the king barely left the throne due to his immense size, and the reservoirs were some of the only local water that Dorephan did not greedily consume.

He solidly believes that after him, no one will stand _as_ tall. Children are _questionable,_ and he’d rather they not be another _duty_ that he _must_ do.

But that’s another thought for another time. Comfortably squeezed into the inn, he sees what must be Link—a lump on the bed, Hylian feet poking out from beneath the edge of his blanket. Sidon, not as graceful as a Hylian on land, bumps his arm into one of the pots near, and the lump shifts, dropping rupees onto the nightstand.

Sidon can’t help but smile at the sight. “Wrong Zora, my friend.” The lump carries on moving, and Link’s head pop out. His cheek is smushed, and his eyes, again, are dulled.

His voice is rough, but Sidon would sell every piece of jewelry he owns to hear it. “Why are you here?” 

“I heard my most treasured friend was visiting! How could I not visit?” Link’s long ears _droop _briefly; Hylians do that. “Kodah worries for you, and asked me to check on you,” he relents without much complaint from the other party. “How fare you, friend?”

Link looks at him at if he’s sprouted another head, tucking his face back beneath the blanket. “I’m—“ his words are strained, and Sidon takes a few careful steps to squeeze in between the beds. He kneels in the limited space, left hand hovering over where to settle. Link has never shied away from touches, so he lets his hand fall on what should be Link’s legs. “I’m an idiot,” he says.

“Perhaps sometimes,” Sidon agrees.

The Hylian groans, his hands appearing. ‘_Went back to Gerudo to finish off Naboris. Naboris fires lightning, got struck a few times. Takes a lot out of a guy_.’ He says it too casually for a life-ending event, but isn’t that why the Hero is a Hylian? They’re the only race that truly can go _anywhere_, but the thought of Link struck pains him the same, fingers nervously twitching on the blanket. ‘_Want to see_?’

Sidon’s eyes casually drop (or try to; Zora’s Domain is chilly but heat never leaves the prince), but Link catches him before he can continue. ‘_In the morning. Promise to get up_.’ Link _smacks_ him, Sidon scoffs, but it’s barely felt as Link finds his cheek. They’re done talking he supposes, yet Sidon makes no effort to leave, claws carefully digging into the blankets, and Link makes no effort to expel him. There’s proper decorum for a prince, this certainly isn’t it, as he lays his head down on the bed, but for a moment, he can pretend it’s fine. 

No one is here to judge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes i hate this but if i didn’t post it i would never update this story bc that’s how things work in this house
> 
> i just wanna write my teba/harth/saki LONG fic for gods sake
> 
> come berate me on twitter @hectorpriamids


	5. Chapter 5

Link is there in the morning.

In fact, it seems as if he’s been up for a while. Sidon comes to with the sun, light poking at his eyes, and distinctly Hylian fingers running along the length of his head tail. It’s admittedly confusing at first—not since Mipha’s passing and the subsequent nightmares has someone touched him with such familiarity—but the previous hours trickle in.

Them.

He could stay in this moment—his eyes slip open to see wavy locks strewn over the soft green of the bed, tinted light streaming through the open air to paint Link like an old portrait preserved in tomes for whoever comes _after_. Link is antiquity and Link is a century passed and Link is _now_. 

Sidon’s unsure of everything he feels; uncertainty isn’t new, but Link is and isn’t.

"Good morning, my friend!” Link taps his scales in what Sidon will assume is his own good morning. “I hope you slept well.”

Link nods. Their position isn’t really conducive to signing, and they both have things to attend to. The Hero must save Hyrule (how clinical!) and the Zora prince must slog through meetings with elders that consist mostly of coughs. They’re both busy people.

If anyone understands this it’s Link; he spends only a few moments more (Sidon hopes) marveling at the prince before sitting up. The blankets pool around his thigh like divinity born of them; he works at his shirt, and Sidon watches, out of curiosity solely, as Link sheds himself of his Hylian tunic, using his own (admittedly jittery) hands as opposed to the Skeihah slate, skin hovering between sun-shy and sun-blessed. Scars litter his exposed skin—through the chest, gashes across his arms reminiscent of scratches, patches clearly struck by arrows—but the point of conversation is easily seen as Link turns.

From his shoulders down branches a violent mess that turns his stomach—amongst white scars sits an inverted tree that made Link sleep for days, and the curve of a bow. Sidon hesitantly touches a small branch with the dull side of a claw, and the Hero shudders. “Riju was-“ hearing Link’s voice this early is a treat, “–very surprised that I survived. She dragged me back to the outpost before I could even board Naboris and force-fed me elixirs.” The Hero sighs, and Sidon presses a little tighter, shifting close as he can on the floor. Warmth emanates from the Hero like he’s absorbed Death Mountain (if Death Mountain was comfortable). “Apparently I’m doing remarkably well for being struck.” Humor laces his tone.

This cascade of words are the most he’s ever heard past the Hylian’s pink lips. He traces a path of the scar as it winds its way across his back; Link is too small for the feats he accomplishes, Sidon’s mouth drying (which is most definitely because he spent the night out of his pool, one hundred percent). “You are amazing, my friend.”


	6. Chapter 6

Link leaves to do Hero of Hyrule things, and Sidon does Prince of the Zora thing in the Domain. It’s a bit boring, admittedly, as the engineers discuss the dam and the gills of old council members rattle with coughs.

His mind wanders back to Link, of lightning scared flesh and ears pointed like the peaks of Lanayru. He finds himself filled with passing regrets for not laying a scaled finger across the scarred skin, regrets not feeling Link as countless others have. It’s _just_ friendly exploration, discovering something so different from the Zora that live only downstream.

That’s all it is.

Link doesn’t return for a few moons, and Sidon does not worry more than anyone else. Father always spoke of how he felt Link’s death before having it confirmed—the Hero’s death rattled Hyrule to its core, and the land itself grieved. He knows Link still draws breath as the sky lights with Malice (red of the Malice, red of the Divine Beasts—the red of Hyrule).

Link still lives; he trails Bazz on his patrol (Bazz tries to not smile; Link’s best friend (in a different time?)), eyes drawn to the glowing blue shrine. Link still lives, and one day his small Hylian body will appear in a mirage of blue.

——

Two more moons. The blood moon rarely aligns with the true moon, but Zora know the cycles of the moon well. Link returns beneath the inky malice that envelops Ploymous (the lynel lets all know that he is, in fact, back, with a tremendous roar; Link always kills him on his visits), traveling on his glider.

He is…oddly dressed. Sidon squints against the moon and the luminous stones of the Domain to catch Link’s form. More fur? It’s hard to tell at this distance; thankfully he doesn’t have to squint for long as Link touches down, momentum carrying him a few extra steps through the ankle deep water.

Link flashes him a mischievous smile; the Hero takes a few steps back to balance on a railing instead of coming closer. It makes the most sense, he knows, but he likes Link close, he quickly realizes. 

“My friend! You’ve returned.” Sidon gives another glance to Mipha (she would understand what he was feeling, even if he doesn’t; at least he likes to think she would) before taking a few long steps over his closet friend. “May I ask what you are wearing?”

Link looks up at him beneath a helm of down and fangs that sinks to his brow, cheeks bit by the wind. Purple paint paints his toned (oh, when did he notice that?) stomach, his bared knees knock, but Link’s mostly white teeth smile up at him. ‘_Zonai armor. Makes me strong_.’

He holds his arm up in a mock pose, fingers clenched into a fist. His slim arm is certainly braided with muscle (he’s seen the Hero scale the cliffs hunting for luminous stones), but it’s as small and _Hylian_ as ever.

"I can see! It must only take one swing of your blade to fell a lizalfos.” The helm makes Link’s teeth appear sharper, a trick on the eyes, a fierce warrior ready to tussle.

It’s hard to imagine Link before, or Link after.

Sidon was too young to remember the before—to barely remember Mipha, to only remember being too young to join the Big Bad Bazz Brigade. Childhood concerns, lurking beneath the water to watch the older children’s antics, and then Mipha stopped existing.

Link nods, a little barbarian ready to resurrect a Hyrule that towers over him; his knees tremble against the wind. Sidon notices as his eyes slide up Link’s bare legs; they settle on his stomach, where purple streaks down his flat, scarred stomach, disappearing beneath the hem of his barely existing pants. “May I?” he asks, unsure of what he’s asking permission for. There’s a flash of hesitation in Link before he nods. 

Sidon settles two fingers on the purple marks, scale to flesh; there isn’t enough of Link for all he is expected to do, to be. Link’s stomach ducks away for a moment, a hitched breath whistling past his lips, but he does not shy away. “Do the paintings come with the armor?" The Zora rarely worked in paints due to the nature of their home.

Nodding, Link lifts his slate up. There’s a brief click, followed by a moment of poking, before all but the headpiece disappears; Sidon’s fingers run parallel to the band of his undergarments, warm skin rough beneath him, and for a split second, his gills forget how to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this didn’t come out like i wanted to but i felt bad for being so quiet the past few days :( i think this’ll wrap up soon & i can focus on Long Fics


	7. Chapter 7

Link returns, looking quite horrifying. There is nothing disfigured, nothing that quells the feelings he most certainly does not have (Father finds it _cute_, as if he’s a hatchling, because Sidon is not good at hiding what he feels), but he can only tell the shadowy figure before him is the Hero because of a smile that fits no other.

The Hero’s has nice legs, too.

Eyes redder than the Blood Moon terrify him, but Link is kind enough to not seek out his eyes, staring just beneath them as he explains this Kilton’s (who is, most definitely, getting a visit from the guards; the children haven’t been sleeping well) currency system.

“You went lynel hunting…for this outfit?” he asks.

Link nods; Sidon’s tempted to run his hand through his hair and cast off the cap. His hair has more…what’s the Hylian phrase? More…oomph, like this. '_In case I don’t make it out of the Castle after defeating Ganon, I want Hyrule to be at peace._’

His breath escapes him at the sheer bluntness in which Link describes Ganon’s demise followed by his own. There _is_ a confidence in his signing (Ganon _will_ fall), but the thought of a world without Link, again, is painful.

“You can do better than that,” he fumbles. “Hyrule—Someone—the Princess—“ but he cannot bring himself to say that someone will always need him; it’s incredibly selfish to expect Link, a seventeen year old Hylian (if only Father remembered his birthday), to always be saving someone. He has a life, surely, of collecting and roaming and traveling and furnishing his Hateno house, which Sidon is determined to see. There must be more than a boy with the sword that seals the darkness and a princess of light against the darkness.

Surely, Link gets to be his own.

Having this conversation with Link dressed in his dark finery is hard, but Sidon kneels all the same, feeling the way his skin repulses as he touches the shadows that cover Link’s cheeks. They’re cold, but a warmth blossoms beneath the inky surface. Link does not shy away, pitch black fingers wrapping around his wrists, far from the perfect stillness he expects. “You cannot die, Link. Not until it is time.”

“When…” a swallow that Sidon can hear “…when’s that?”

Hylians do not live forever—they barely live for long. “Whenever the goddess decides.”

“I’d…like to come back.”

“I know, dear." It falls out before he means it.

“Are you okay if I don’t?” Sidon brushes his thumb through his dark, dangling locks, tucking it behind pointed, bent ear. Link isn’t his to keep around, nor is he really capable of protecting him. The man is unparalleled in all he does, and it is ridiculous to envision him protected by anyone besides himself.

Sidon, maybe one day, will try. He does not need protecting either, but there is a certain comfort to a guard always being around the corner.

“Truthfully, my dear? I would not be.”

The Hylian looks at him, fully, red eyes bright; something in Sidon is as intrigued as he is repulsed. Link makes no promises, in fact he speaks no more for the night, but he presses his face into Sidon’s hand, eyes shut for a brief second. “All I ask, Link, is that you try. I will always be waiting for you, dearest friend. Always.”


	8. Chapter 8

“I lost a tooth.” Sidon glances up at Link, who’s busy staring at his mouth in his slate. It is the first time in a long time he’s seen Link in his simple Hylian tunic, died green, traveler’s hood pushed back behind his ears. "Hylians my age don’t get them back,” he explains. There’s a gruffness to his voice, obvious disuse, and one of Sidon’s hearts skips a beat at the implication. It’s there, isn’t it?

“How did you do that?" he asks. His skin is pink once more. The Hero admitted to not particularly caring for his dark outfit—all it did was spook the people he was meant to save, and made him as weak as paper.

Link glances at him for a moment. He is, of course, ever soft, ever easy to look at. "Got tired halfway up a cliff and slipped. Head hit off a ledge.”

Sidon, despite being use to Link and his...methods, winces (the Prince, for instance, pretends he never saw Link crack his head open on the cliffs while scouting for luminous stones, scrambling for his Slate). “That does not sound pleasant.”

The Hero nods in agreement. “It isn’t.” The Slate lowers, the screen dims. “How many for you have?"

“I have not counted.” It’s the only answer he can give, and Link seems pleased by it, nodding. He hooks the Slate onto his hip. “Link?"

“Sidon?”

A spark runs up his spine. “Forgive my forwardness, and you do not have to answer if you do not desire to.” The Hero seems intrigued, scooting back to look at him better. Surely, there is a way to remedy the height difference. Well. There is while they stand. But now they sit in the shadow of a petal of the arms that wrap around the Domain. "You have almost died, yes?”

Sometimes, Link is easy to read. Sometimes, he’s not. Much happens in those blue eyes. Nothing happens in them. It is the day. It is the moon. Sidon will crack the code one day.

Link grins, not as feral as he envisioned. The hood dips down across his forehead. “Many times."

"Hylians are fragile.”

"We are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn’t mean to like, die. i Kinda forget what i’m doing w this so idk jump on this ride. there’s no rails


	9. Chapter 9

Sidon is woken in the middle of the night. The sound is slow to reach him in the waters of his submerged sleeping pool, but it does, and when his eyes open, a blurry Lynel face dangles over his. He reacts before he thinks, though his pool wasn’t designed for how _large_ he has become, and as his head breaks the surface and he scrambles back, water sloshes over the side. How did a Lynel-

Looking, now, it is an awfully _small_ Lynel, and one that laughs behind a distinctly scarred, Hylian hand. Who else would be here?

“Link!” His hearts, thankfully, are slowing. Link pries the Lynel head off of his own, and even in the dark of night Link’s smile is radiant, and it does nothing for his hearts. “I did not expect to see you now.” Still, it is welcomed. Three moons have passed since Link last visited. Sidon wonders how many times he has died.

The Hylian shrugs. The Lynel mask disappears, and from the light of the Slate that now sits on the floor, Sidon can make out his hands. ‘_I wanted to stop in. Missed you_.’

His shoulders slip beneath the water. The chill in the room disappears. “You are always welcomed here, my dearest friend!” though he had never envisioned the Hylian Hero in his own chambers. Well. He had. But some thoughts deserved to be buried.

Link’s smile wavers at his words. Something weighs on him. He knows. How could something not be? ‘_Sidon_.’

“Link.” His feet dip into the water. They idly kick. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

A moment of silence. Hesitation. Link nods. ‘_One last stop to see the Koroks, and then-_’ his fingers pause. His brow furrows. Sidon wonders if they’ll always be here, somehow.

“..and then you and Princess Zelda will come visit!” Sidon fills in. “Father has always been awfully fond of her. I am sure he would love to see her again.” In the new silence (Hylians turn pink easily), Sidon, as Prince of the Zora, wonders: how did Lynel Link slip pass the guards, anyway? He wouldn’t put it past the man, but he’ll have a talk with Bazz about the alertness of the night guard. It is mainly the children and the elderly, of course, who slumber often at night, but even the young Zora need the occasional wink. Did Mipha ever-

Link is still toying with his hands. Sidon wishes he could read more of his body language.

The Hero of Hyrule slips a little further in, the water up to his knees. “Sidon.” His voice. It sounds used. Was he amongst the Rito, the Gorons? Will he ever find the full force of his- “We’ll be here. I’ll be back.” His voice strains with the confidence that undoubtedly wear at his vocal chords.

Sidon nods. If there was more light he’d go for the whole show. “I know you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ending this next chapter so i can work on stuff in the Vault and not feel bad about never updating it.


	10. Chapter 10

Link is just shorter than Zelda. Sidon spies this fact from his height advantage, though he thinks if Link straightened his shoulders he could match her.   
  
Sidon has vague memories of Princess Zelda, but for all intents and purposes, it is their first meeting. Sidon was young, after all, and some of the details of these unnaturally lived Hylians have slipped by. Her laughter was the same, though her smiled unnerved him some. A hundred years of Ganon must have stifled her ability, and Sidon vowed to fix that. He knew how to smile.  
  
Link was Link. He stands a few feet behind Zelda, watching the scene with - eyes. Sidon still wasn't sure what color they were. Close to his tunic. He wonders what comes next for Hero and Princess. Hyrule Castle stands, albeit disastrously, and Hylians are a scattered bunch.  
  
For now, Father remedies the situation with a feast. He was joyous to see Zelda again, and while the Elders are the Elders, the Zora welcome Zelda with open arms. Hyrule has longed for its Princess. Link and Zelda, both pink, are invariably lost in a sea of dancing Zora (they're not the greatest at it, really, but the children smile) while he watches with Bazz.  
  
He's given a smile by Link. They share white teeth. Something gnaws at him.   
  
Sidon will figure out these feelings one day.  
  
The festivities continue. Zelda is thoroughly colored pink, and her hair frizzes amongst the humidity of the Domain. Link invites him in for a dance, but he turns him down. He frowns, and Sidon doesn't care for the look. Is he missing something? Bazz's soft shake of the head seems to confirm his suspicions. Of course. "My Prince."  
  
"I know." The festivities dwindle more, and he asks Zelda if he may borrow Link. He wonders what she knows. More than him, likely. He remembers Zelda’s wit, if anything. She gives him Link, as if he’s something to be shared, and Link’s stature makes him surprisingly easy to find amongst the throng of towering Zora.  
  
Sidon and Link (he’s wearing the Gerudo headpiece; Sidon doesn’t mind the way Link’s hair is pulled back) meet outside. The air is brisk, but pink leaves Link’s face. Sidon sits for a change of pace. "I told you you would come back, my friend!" He is the first to break the silence, the first time he's had the chance to speak to Link all night. He wonders if tonight is a moon of words.  
  
Link nods. Hair slips free of its prison. 'Where else would I go?' he signs. Does Link remember their last conversation? Likely.   
  
"Well, what comes next for you and the Princess?" Sidon asks, genuinely curious. Some part of him is selfish and wants their visits to continue. Most of him knows that it is unlikely. Hyrule needs Link, like it always has, and Zelda needs Link. It would be selfish to ask for anything more than he's already gotten.  
  
Link shrugs. It's a very noncommittal motion for someone who put the Calamity to rest two weeks prior. 'Zelda needs some rest before we can travel too much. She'll need the outfits, too,' he leads with. 'Was going to take her to Hateno. Second best place for Hylians after the Domain. When she's better-' Link's fingers stutter. His brow furrows.  
  
Sidon cocks his head. His crown piece dips. "You two will always be welcomed here!" he promises. "Hyrule is not going anywhere overnight."  
  
"...until it does." Link borderline croaks as he clears his throat. "I don't know what comes next," he answers, and Link does not lie. "I hope we come back." Link is always hoping he comes back. He's returned twice from things more improbable than a jaunt across Hyrule. He knows Link will return.  
  
He smiles. He cannot assuage all his worries; he can, however, be a piece of comfort. "There is no harm in taking care of yourselves first. Hyrule needs you healthy." Some tension leaves Link's shoulders.  
  
Link nods. His foot taps. "And you'll be here."  
  
"Zora are long-lived, yes." It's not quite what he wants to say. Sidon knows what he is feeling. He's felt it before. "I will be here as long as I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had higher hopes for this at the beginning tbh
> 
> thanks to all of you for sticking around, reading, kudosing, and commenting <3! i'm use to writing for smaller fandoms, so this was kind of overwhelming tbh. i'm not done with sidlink, i don't think, so there'll be more. the drafts are piling. join me for more vaguely gay content where neither of them alright confess. in the down time you can find me on tumblr @hectorpriamidz. i mainly talk to myself there. 
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> look, i get it, gerudo link is hot, but the zora don’t wear clothes? so it probably wouldn’t have an affect on the zora & they don’t seem to be as gendered as hylians
> 
> also yeah the lynel scared me so instead of going back to get the two arrows i needed i went to gerudo town
> 
> tune in for the next part & find me on twitter @hectorpriamids, or tumblr @rleucos


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